Vancouver Whitecaps midfielder Pedro Morales (driving to the net against Seattle Sounders goalkeeper Stefan Frei last Saturday’s game) has delivered some magical moments with the ball at his feet so far this season. (Gerry Kahrmann, PNG)

I can’t tell you how, when or where the emotional trauma will arrive, but arrive it most certainly will.

There is something about the way Carl Robinson wants his team to play, and something about the way his players are responding to his wishes, that it seems inconceivable they can survive the rigours and cynicism of the modern world.

And maybe it’s fitting that the Whitecaps represent a city and a Province that can be transformed from damp and dreary mediocrity into stunning scenery with barely a slash of sunlight across the sky because Robinson and his squad seem intent on lighting up the field with similar flashes of light.

There’s still an awful long way to go of course (and let’s not get so bogged down in romanticism to blind ourselves to the fact that at least one or two of the players are capable of taking a dive to earn a decision) but the overarching direction is so clearly toward what is sometimes called “the right way” of playing that it’s hard to avoid feeling both excited and fearful for this team.

Excited because, when it works, their style of play is just so much fun to watch (and how much professional sport is actually “fun” anymore) that even the missed chances can raise the crowd out of their seats.

There were moments against Seattle when playmaker Pedro Morales had the ball at his feet and the option of at least three teammates, all running at speed, to pass to and although only one of those moments produced a goal (thanks to some terrific footwork from Erik Hurtado) each one of them was a thrill.

When the Whitecaps are at full throttle they are the footballing equivalent of a well-made Hollywood Blockbuster movie; the volcano may not erupt at every possible moment, but knowing there’s a chance that it could blow at any time makes the spectacle just as enjoyable.

Fearful because we’ve already seen the fragility that such a style imposes on a team. Playing with attacking intent inevitably leaves the defence more open than is the ideal and, despite the Herculean efforts of Matias Laba to provide some kind of bulwark, there is always the likelihood that goals will be conceded.

But mostly fearful because the sporting gods just don’t seem to bestow their favours on teams who play with their bodies and minds off the leash. Oh sure, they’ll toy with them and allow them a glimpse of the glory of the ultimate prize but when push comes to shove (and the sporting gods really do seem to side with the teams who are happy to push and shove) they will allow fate to snatch the laurels from the head of the idealistic and lay them firmly on the brow of the uninspired pragmatist.

So we need to thumb our noses at those sporting gods and enjoy the Whitecaps’ moments of magic when they arrive, learn to accept the downside that comes with those highs and we also need to hope that Carl Robinson isn’t forced to sacrifice his beliefs on the altar of the ultimate prize.

After all, his team are going to succeed more times than they fail, are good enough to make the post-season playoffs and are likely to win over more converts to soccer as they do so.

It’s just that, in the end, they are going to break our hearts and there’s not a thing we can do about it.

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